Irrelevant
by Midorima Kazunari
Summary: Even with superheroes and demigods protecting humanity, there will always be someone who is considered irrelevant.


Dedicated to Blue as part of the Spring Gift Exchange on RLt.

* * *

"Harold?" Reese said into his Bluetooth earpiece. "Where's Shaw? Where's my back-up?"

"I'm sorry Mr. Reese, she's working on another number. At least, I think she is. Our newest number supposedly died in 1942. I'm not sure how many enemies a ninety-two-year-old ghost could make, but the anomaly is enough to make me concerned."

"Maybe it's just another case of stolen identity," Reese said.

"True, but then whoever stole Captain Rog–"

"Harold? Can we talk about your mystery number another time, perhaps when less people are shooting at me?"

"Of course. How can I help you, Mr. Reese?"

He stared at the little girl huddled under his jacket and wondered what she thought of the whole affair. Reese surveyed the wreck of the room. He'd done a considerable amount of damage when he'd secured the number. The broken window, the overturned couch, and the unconscious thug, all added to the milieu. He rummaged through the guy's pockets and took the two extra clips, a spare handgun, and a butterfly knife.

"Well, you can start by helping me with an exit strategy," he said and changed the spent clip from a fresh one.

"Is Ms. Lui alright?"

"She's fine, Harold, and so am I, thanks for asking, but we won't be much longer if these wannabe Triads find us."

"I have control of the building's network. I'll have the feeds in another moment," Finch said. Reese could hear his fingers fly over the keys, and that rhythmic, unhurried sound gave him faith that some things never changed.

"Anytime now, Harold."

"I want my mommy," the five-year-old Feng Lui said, in perfect crisp English. Reese envied the young and their natural ability to absorb languages; he had spent years immersed in the study of languages, and his accent never concealed his origins. She wasn't loud or demanding – there were no tears, no crunched up features – she was just stating a fact. When had Shaw turned into a five-year-old Chinese girl? What a strange child!

"You need to be quiet," Reese said to her, figuring if she was anything like Shaw, then the truth would work better on her than some fairy tale. "Those men are trying to kill us. If we can get away from here, I will take you to your mommy."

"Ok," she said, her dark almond eyes boring into his.

"Do you know what these men want with you?" Reese asked the girl.

"They want the bag in my tummy. I swallowed it in Hong Kong," Feng answered, yawning.

"She's a drug mule, Finch."

The unconscious man groaned; Reese silenced him with an efficient blow to the back of the head. The man fell silent as Feng stared at Reese, her expression as blank as a China doll.

"Then our priorities have changed. You need to get her to a hospital _immediately_."

"Well, that's easier said than done, Finch."

"Mr. Reese," Finch's voice came over the ear piece. "There are two men approaching your position from the left. After you take care of them, I want you to go fifty feet to your right from the room's door. Enter the third door down on the left hand side, it should be labeled 214, and then take the fire escape down to ground level. If you can get there within the next few moments, there is a car with the keys in the ignition on the corner. The owner is currently having difficulties at the dry cleaner's, but I can't guarantee how much longer I can obfuscate the system."

"Care to turn out the lights?" Reese asked, filing away all the information that Finch had spewed out.

"Of course; when would you like me to do that?"

"That's a cool phone you got there, Mister. What kind is it?" Feng said.

He looked down at the little girl, with her calm, sociopathic disinterest in the situation around her, and shrugged.

"It's provided by my employer. I've never thought much about it. Harold, turn the lights off when they are just about to open the door".

"Got it, Mr. Reese. And be careful."

"I will."

When the room went dark, Reese was positioned to the side of door; as it opened, he pulled the first of the two gunmen through and into the wall opposite with enough concussive force to stun the man into a limp parody of human rag doll. The second man, he shot in the knee. He retrieved Feng, hoisting her on one hip, and took off down the hall. She smelled fresh, like aloe, a sharp contrast to his sweaty gunpowder stench.

"Your timing with the lights was off, Harold," Reese complained.

"The lights went off on their own, Mr. Reese. Be careful."

Reese was forced to county those fifty steps as he stepped into the blackness of the hallway - no windows, and now no artificial light - the dark was so deep that he couldn't see the little girl tucked under his arm. He wedged the gun into this waistband and felt along the walls until he found a sign on the wall, his fingers traced over the Braille lettering – he'd have thanked Kara Stanton for forcing him to learn the language so many years ago had she still been alive – and knew he was in the right place.

Down the hall, the groans of the Triad enforcers grew louder. Reese tried the doorknob.

"Why is everything locked?" he said to no one in particular.

"Because there's usually something good inside," Feng said.

"Because they know how much it will annoy you, Mr. Reese, even though that door should pose absolutely no trouble for your foot," Finch said at the same moment as the girl.

Reese didn't stop to marvel at their perfect synchronization. He simply applied said foot to the door, and what was behind was very valuable indeed. The sun pouring in from the open window was as sweet as freedom. Three steps and he was out of the window and into the chilly Manhattan afternoon.

Global warming? Reese thought. Forty-eight degrees is not springtime.

He took off his suit jacket and placed it around the girl. She needed it more than he did, as her tiny body shivered despite the brilliantly glowing sunlight.

* * *

"Is the car still there?" Reese asked as he took Feng's hand and led her towards Broadway.

"It is, strangely enough."

"Alright, we're on our –"

Something overhead caught Reese's eye and he dropped to the ground, hugging close the fender of a car and dragged Feng with him.

"Harold? What the hell is going on?"

"Mr. Reese, please, your language. Ms. Lui is only five years old."

"Finch, I'm not kidding. Turn on the news and tell me what's going on, because either we've been invaded by aliens or I've taken a blow to the head. I'm not sure which."

Finch sighed, but turned on the television.

Through the bluetooth, Reese heard the emergency broadcast system tone bleating on the library's television before Finch could take hold of the remote and lower the volume. Bear barked once sharply and then was silent.

"Apparently you haven't suffered a head wound, Mr. Reese. The reports aren't clear, but the Machine suddenly started spewing out number after number. It's... apocalyptic. Get Ms. Lui back to her mother's care and then hurry back here. We have to find Shaw. And we have to make sure Detective Fusco and his son are alright," Harold babbled out orders as he slumped into the chair in front of the television. "The whole world is going crazy..."

"I'll get right on that, Harold," Reese said. He reached to disconnect the phone, but decided not to. He hesitated. It wasn't like they were paying a phone bill, so he stayed on, hoping that Harold would snap out of his daze and provide him with the much needed ballast of his calm, stoic demeanor usually provided in moments of stress.

He waited until the street was clear of alien creatures flying across the sky on hover bikes and dashed into the nearest alley. People streamed away from the downtown area like thundering herds of buffalo. People ran in every conceivable way, knocking down the weaker, slower escapees, most not stopping to offer a hand up.

Above him, arrows flashed and a creature ten times that of a sperm whale undulated in the sky. Reese zigged and zagged, dodging falling debris and wondering what good the man shooting arrows at the armored creature thought he was doing with frail little projectiles.

Of all the ways I thought I would die, Reese thought, this wasn't even on the list of potential threats.

A stream of red and gold rocketed through the sky as Reese and Feng took shelter inside the upright shell of what was once a taxi. Laser fire rained down, and yet they remained huddled in the wreckage, breathing in the burning havoc.

"Oh look. It's Iron Man. We'll be safe now," Feng commented, with about as much enthusiasm as if she'd noted the color of Reese's white shirt.

"Mr. Reese?"

"Harold?"

"I just wanted to know you were still alive. The invasion hasn't reached this part of town, yet, but they say that it's bad where you are."

"It's bad, Harold."

A pair of legs, clad in dark, slate blue and feet shod in red boots, thumped to the ground by the passenger side window of the car. They moved energetically, as the sounds of brawling filled the air. Reese pulled Feng out of the other side of the car, and moved quickly to the next place where they could find cover. Looking behind him, he saw the... thing aiming at the strangely dressed man in the red, white, and blue uniform.

"Captain America," Reese whispered.

"Did you say Captain America?" Finch asked.

Reese didn't answer. He simply fired six shots into the back of the creature's head. The thing flinched and turned to look at him, aiming its weapon at Reese and the girl.

"I don't think I'll be home for dinner tonight, Harold..." Reese said as he watched the blue glow of the barrel of the weapon become brighter.

Reese tried to move, tried to at least drop the girl, and maybe save her life, but he couldn't move. This was just... wrong. Instead, he wrapped his arms tighter around Feng, turned his shoulder to the thing, and closed his eyes.

The sound of the vibration deafened Reese as the red, white, and blue shield sailed by his face after it took the head off the creature.

"Sir, are you and the girl alright?" Captain America asked as he approached to check Reese and Feng for injuries.

"No, no, I think we're alright," Reese panted. He was dizzy, and as Captain American gripped his forearm to keep him on his feet, he realized he was still alive.

"Thank you, sir, for helping me back there. In the chaos, I hadn't heard it sneaking up on me."

"You're welcome," Reese mumbled.

"Sir, are you an Agent of S.H.I.E.L.D? We could use some more ground support, if you're willing."

"Shield?" Reese asked, snapping out of his daze to find that reality was still a confusing jumble. "No, I'm just... a concerned citizen."

"We need more people like you, sir. Get to cover and take care of yourself and the girl."

"Captain American," Feng reached out and touched the other man's ash-blackened face, looking from him up into the smoke-filled sky. "Kick their ass."

"Um, well, little lady, you shouldn't use such language..."

* * *

Reese sat on the couch next to Harold and drank whiskey straight from the bottle.

"It really happened, didn't it? We were invaded by aliens, saved by superheroes, and the Machine didn't see any of it," Reese said, offering the bottle to Finch.

"Mr. Reese, it's amazing how accurate the Machine is, even in the midst of something so horrible and unexpected. It didn't predict the bombing at the Boston Marathon, the shootings at the theatre in Tampa, the murder of Trayvon Martin. It can't, because I caged it, confined it to the five boroughs of New York. It's a machine, a highly intelligent and learning machine, not a crystal ball. Even the Machine can't account for threats that are extraterrestrial in origin," Harold said, then took a small sip of the whiskey. "This is a $100 bottle of booze and we're swigging it like it was a domestic beer."

"What? Were you saving it for a special occasion, Harold? I think that when the world doesn't end, it's enough of a victory. I'm disappointed, Harold; this means you didn't plan for every variable," Reese laughed, taking back the bottle.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Reese. I'm not omniscient, nor am I a superhero. I'm just one man, trying to do what's right. And, speaking of which, we should get back to work. The Machine hasn't stopped giving out numbers since it began."

"I think we'd better leave the aliens to the Avengers, don't you? Bullets did nothing more than annoy them."

Bear jumped up as he heard the front door unlock.

"You boys want some fresh coffee? I had to go to three Dunkin' Donuts to find one that was still open," Shaw said as she tossed her keys on the table. "Oh, by the way, I couldn't find that Captain Rogers, Harold."

"I found him, Shaw, and took care of the threat," Reese said, taking a coffee cup from the carrier she held in her hands. For the first time in the last twenty-four hours, Reese could smell something other than the fragrance of burnt nostril hair. He didn't care what Harold or Shaw thought, he was going to finish the bottle of whiskey before he left the couch, but right now, the wafting aroma of the coffee made him feel human again, and almost normal.

"Oh? Great. What's the next number, Harold?"

"You did notice that New York has been destroyed, didn't you, Shaw? I think we've earned the right to take a day off," Reese insisted.

"But there will always be people who use tragedy to hide their crimes," Finch said, forsaking the whiskey for a hot cup of coffee. It wasn't his favorite, in fact he usually only drank tea, but it was better than wallowing in self-pity. "Our work now is more important than ever. Even with superheroes and demigods protecting humanity, there will always be someone who is considered irrelevant."

* * *

My sincerest thanks to my Beta Readers, Neo and Book! And thanks to Dark for concrit.


End file.
